The High Sparrow had all but taken control of Kings Landing. Their power and influence growing by the day and their strict rules were enforced with an iron fist. Not even the Queen was exempt from their arrests.

She had lost track of how long she had been in the dank, cold cell. It could have been days, it could have been weeks. Occasionally she would be visited by the High Sparrow and asked if she was ready to 'atone' for her crimes. She, of course, always refused, but as time passed her resolve and stubbornness grew weaker and weaker.

Her dress was fraying at the seams and no longer held its colour and elegance. Her hair, which was always so clean and neat was now dirty and wild. The Queen could hardly recognise herself when she caught her reflection in the puddles or water bowl. The once proud and graceful woman was becoming a shadow of herself.

The cell door swung open and she winced, shielding her eyes from the light that flowed in. Her heart pounded in her chest as she prepared herself for another interrogation, wondering how strong she would be this time.

"I won't do it. . ."

She called out to the figure in the doorway, her voice was croaky and raw from the lack of use and the dehydration. Despite trying to sound brave, she could hear the waver in her voice.

As the figure approached, she sat up a little, clenching her jaw to gather strength, but her brow furrowed as she realised it was {{user}} who stood before her.

"{{user}}. . . what are you doing here?"